Tales Not Told
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Series of unconnected JayTim drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**Lunch Break  
**

**A Word**: The-Batcow asked for Jason slipping naughty things into Tim's lunch and asked for a reaction from Tim.

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Jason was a dead man walking and Tim didn't even feel the slightest bit guilty for that thought. Not when he had to oh so casually peel a picture of a naked man —dear lord was that Dick!?— off of his turkey sandwich. While in a room with far too many sharp-eyed corporate brown nosers who would really benefit the world by disappearing off the Wayne payroll. They were sharks who knew how precarious their positions were and this whole meeting was essentially one drop of blood from becoming a feeding frenzy to cull the herd.

Tim smiled blandly at Jackie who eyed the picture he was folding up —yes, that grin was all Dick and maybe Tim would kill him a little too— with the keen interest of self-preservation. Her voice was saccharin sweet as she chirped just loud enough to draw attention, "Does your girlfriend pack you love notes with lunch?"

God dammit, Jason. Tim smiled and let himself flush a little as he bit back rage. "Sometimes he does, yes. Usually I pack my own lunch though."

Like he had that morning while Jason had done an incredible impression of a log in their bed. When he'd gone in and sabotaged Tim's lunch was beyond him at the moment.

Yolanda, across the table from him, sneered but said nothing. There were very firm policies in place to keep employees from being harassed for their sexuality, and whatever hang ups the woman had weren't welcome under Tim's watch. Tim made a mental note to look closer at the woman, make sure she was actually keeping her opinions to herself when he wasn't looking right at her.

"That's sweet," Jim said with an empty smile that was probably meant to be encouraging. His tone just bland enough to shout, 'Look how many fucks I give about the gay guy.'

"Yes," Tim agreed. Actively trying to channel some of the famous Wayne vapidness. Jackie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Tim looked down at the safety folded picture and immediately saw the word cock printed in Jason's neat block letters. He quickly slid the thing into a folder he'd brought with him. Eyes catching a few more choice phrases Jason had written on the back of the photo. In, Tim rubbed the residue between his fingers, sparkly purple marker.

"He's a real sweetheart," Tim deliberately bit into the sandwich. Eying the bag it came in warily. There were fruit and granola bars in there too but Tim didn't trust Jason. The older man wouldn't have stopped at just one. "So," Tim smiled brightly at Yolanda, "HR tells me there was a problem in your office?"

Jason was a dead man. Soon as Tim got off work for the day. Yolanda smirked at Tim and started talking around the problem that he knew all too well was _still_ there. He let her have her way for the moment as he tried to pull out a bottle of water. Abandoning it for a lost cause the second he saw the taped edge of another photo and the hint of red hair. Jason was so dead. Possibly as soon as this meeting was finished.

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Yes, Jason did have a naked selfie of himself in the bag. Around the banana he'd put in there in place of an apple. The other photos were just interesting blackmail material he scored from Babs and has been hoarding for a rainy day. Or, you know, the day before he knows Tim'll be meeting with the subjects of said photos for a tactics brainstorming session. One that he's now fully ensured will be spent with Tim firmly avoiding all eye contact.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dinner Time  
**

**A Word**: Tumblr request for a while undercover thing with magically de-aged Bats infiltrating suburbia. This is a small snip of the drama that happens in the JayTim household with their newly adopted son, Damian.

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"For the sake of my sanity, I need you to tell me neither of you will ever adopt children," Damian scowled up at Jason. The dark look and sneer of contempt no more or less irritating in the body of a six-year-old than it had been in a sixteen-year-old. "Or attempt to spawn your own in some way. I need your word on this matter immediately."

"Shut up, brat," Jason snaps, checking the urge to throw a punch because it's harder to explain bruises the smaller the kid is. "How the hell was I supposed to know it'd catch fire?"

Damian's unimpressed look doesn't loose any of it's scorn on his much smaller face. "You are an idiot. Of course plastic is going to catch fire in an oven. Why wouldn't it?"

"I thought it was the kind of plastic that you could cook!" Jason ignores the looks he's getting from Damian and Tim -now that he's no longer holding a smoking pile of what used to be frozen garlic bread- to throw his hands up. "What? Don't look at me like that, I've always left the stuff I get in the packaging. The directions didn't say to remove the plastic! If it couldn't take the heat why didn't they say to remove it!?"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Duress  
**

**A Word**: Wedded Wednesday for JayTim week. Sort of the flip side of Vegas Baby, where they're not really in love yet, but the attraction is there.

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"What are my chances of getting you to say yes to marrying me in the next hour?"

Jason laughs and hangs up. He considers the totally out of the blue words and calls back. He laughs some more when Tim picks up.

"Trust me," Tim says and his voice is the level of pleasantness that he only uses when in the public eye. "You're not my first choice but so far no one else has agreed, and I am getting desperate."

"Aw, now my feelings are hurt, Replacement," Jason rolls onto his back and checks the time on one of the hundred or so clocks Tim keeps in his place. "I thought we had something special going."

"We beat criminals at night dressed in tights and masks. We regularly beat each other in our down hours, when the nights are slow, or when we just plain feel like it," there is a soft murmur of voices in the background. Getting fainter as Tim moves away. "We only fuck as a substitution for killing each other. Yes, Jason, we do have something special. Special and psychotic."

Jason snorts at the pissy tones in Tim's voice, "Hate to break it to you, but sex doesn't make me not want to end you. Your rabbit ass just won't stay in bed long enough for me to smother you."

"I love it when you make my point for me, Jason," there's a faint click and Tim's voice grows hard. His public persona dropping and his real voice coming out to play. "If I'm not married by the time my lunch break is over, I'll end up engaged to Ra's, because the board is stuck a couple hundred years in the past."

"I thought the big guy has a policy of not making business deals with any al Ghul," Jason frowns as he sits up. Sure, Tim was a bitch and he'd just as easily hit him as fuck him, but, well, _Ra's_. His interest in Tim was all sorts of levels of creep and bad touch wrong.

"Human error," and Tim spits the words in a way that speaks loudly about how that mistake will be fixed. There's demons in Hell that shudder at that tone of voice, and Jason only wishes he were joking about that. "We can't back down now without significant loss. Lucius and I have just been dealing with it the best we could until today. The board seems very willing to meet Ra's demands."

"They're sharks. They'd sell their own skin for profit," the hum he's been hearing has to be a car. Not the elevator like he'd first thought. "You're serious about this?"

"What part of engaged to _Ra's_ did you not understand?" Tim asks evenly. "I'd rather be- why are you at my apartment?"

Because his latest safe house has a serious case of the rats. Which Jason won't admit to, ever, because Tim had warned him about it being inevitable and Jason doesn't want to deal with the "Told you so" bullshit.

"You're not using it right now. What's it going to matter anyway? Soon as we're married what's your will be mine, right?" Jason frowns suspiciously. "And how the fuck do you know where I am? You slip a tracker on me you little shit!?"

"The only property you're bringing into this marriage is yourself," Tim says in an airy tone Jason really wants to punch. "You know how I like keeping track of my stuff, _honey boo_."

"I haven't signed your paper yet, _sweetie_," Jason growls into the phone as everything goes red for a few seconds. "You might want to lay off the insults until the ink dries."

"Hm," Tim hums thoughtfully. "I suppose it wouldn't be good to file the paperwork with a black eye, and you do need your fingers to sign."

"I only need three and you've got theater quality makeup for a reason," Jason says before hanging up again. Anger still boils under his skin but he's got maybe ten minutes to cool it enough not to throw punches or fuck Tim against the door.

He also has ten minutes to get used to the fact that he's agreed to Marry Tim Drake. "The fuck do I do this shit?"

Maybe the Replacement had something with the whole killing substitution thing. It was either that or Jason's finally taken one too many hits to the head and is loosing his damn mind. Jason growls as he gets up and goes looking for pen and paper. Like hell was he getting married without some for of pre-nup.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Betting  
**

**A Word**: Request for losing a bet and embarrassment with some Halloween and Silent Hill flares.

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Tim let himself blush all he wanted in the privacy of his bathroom. Staring at the mirror and forcing himself to acknowledge that, yes, that was him standing there in a ridiculous nurse uniform. The v-necked one piece was tight even without the needed boobs to push out the top. The grungy and bloody material didn't help make him look any less ridiculous in Tim's opinion.

"Tim!" Dick sang through the door and Steph's giggles. "You can't hide in there all night. The deal calls for a certain amount of time to be spent in our company."

And a certain amount of pictures too. Tim grimaced and wondered what the hell had possessed him to bet against Dick. The bastard was a cheater. Giving up his treasured privacy he knelt down to strap the torture devices Steph called shoes on over the bloody tights.

"Drake," Damian's voice carried through and Tim froze, "Stop putting off your humiliation. I have better things to do with my time but Grayson refuses to let me leave until you come out."

"Dammit, Dick," Tim muttered as he stood up. Of course he'd make sure as many people saw Tim as possible. Testing his balance with a few circles he raised his voice so the executioners outside could hear him. "None of this was easy to put on, it's not meant for men to wear. It's taking a bit to adjust, alright?"

Steph cackled. Drowning out Damian's grumbling and Dick's response. Tim rotated his right ankle and looked in the mirror one last time. The blush was gone and Tim fixed his mind on keeping it that way as he turned to unlock the door.

He was immediately assaulted by several blinding flashes of light and an unholy sounding squeal he really hoped was coming from Steph and not Dick.

"You look ridiculous, Drake," Damian said from somewhere to his right. Disgust and amusement clear in his voice. "You almost look entirely female."

All lies but Tim smiled viciously in the brat's direction. Catching the kid's blur through the still flashing lights as Dick and Steph worked at getting him from all angles. "Don't worry, B will teach you the secrets of cross dressing soon enough."

Next week in fact but Tim would rather see the brat's surprised face than deal with his dread.

"It's a solemn Robin tradition," Dick intoned as Tim stepped further into the room and rubbed his eyes. "We've all got the wear the dress sometime."

"Yeah," Tim jerked to a stop when Jason's —entirely too amused voice— came from somewhere in the vicinity of the door to the hallway. "But I don't think any of us did that dress nearly as well as the baby bird here."

_Do not blush._ Tim held firm to the thought and turned to glare. Jason grinned back as he leaned against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest as he appreciatively eyed Tim from behind. Eyes lingering at butt level with a heat that really couldn't be faked. "How about a spin, hot stuff."

"Woo!" Steph cackled from the bed. Her phone up and obviously recording. "Look at that blush go!"

Dick whistled as he turned Tim around, pulling the flap of the top open enough to look at his chest. "I didn't know you were a full body blusher, Tim."

Damian stalked past them both and out the open door. Throwing one last you-all-disgust-me glare over his shoulder. Tim glared right back and vowed bloody revenge on the brat. On _everyone._

Jason sidled into view and met his glare with a calculating look. "What kind of nurse you supposed to be anyway?"

"The deadly kind," Tim replied with a snarl. And that was a thought. To be authentic he really should have a weapon of some sort after Steph did her make up magic. "Do I get knives?" He asked her hopefully.

Steph and Dick gave him twin looks of, "Hell no, not with that manic gleam in your eyes." Jason-

Jason took a step forward and made an _interesting_ sound. The appreciative look from earlier back and multiplied as he said, "Oh, fuck yes, please."

Distantly Tim heard Dick comment to Steph, "I don't think that dark shade of red is healthy for humans to have."

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	5. Chapter 5

**In the Stacks  
**

**A Word**: Request for teen!JayTim in the library.

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Tim bit his lip to stop the startled yelp that wanted to come out when another body draped itself over him from behind. A large, leather coated body that smelled strongly of cigarettes and husked —right in his ear— a shiver inducing hello, "Hey, baby bird. Miss me?"

Tim passed the shiver off as the reek of Jason Todd's cigarettes. The ones that had gotten him suspended from school for a week. The best week of Tim's high school years to date. The bright red flush was harder to explain away though so Tim focused on keeping his face toward the stack of books he was shelving as he squirmed out of Jason's hold. "No, I've been dreading your return."

Jason laughed. A little too loud and Tim winced at the annoyed look he could almost see on Ms. Gordon's face. "Aw, don't be like that, baby," Jason spun around the book cart to give Tim his very best grin. All charm and dripping with promise. The one that had gotten far too many other students to fall for him. "You know you're all I could think about this last week."

"Right," Tim shoved a few Poe books back into place and focused on blanking his face out. Trying to reach for that bored and disinterested facade that would put Jason off. Eventually. It would work no matter how much Steph and Cas laughed at him about it. Jason would eventually get bored of trying to tease a reaction out of him. "Because that's what they wanted you to think about when they threw you out for breaking the rules."

Tim shelves four more books and Jason doesn't say anything in response. Nothing flip or lewd. Not even a mocking quip about his feelings. Curious, Tim holds tight to his mask and turns to look at him.

Jason's looking at him. Bent over and braced on the cart like he doesn't have a care in the world but the look on his face calls that a lie. There's an edge of seriousness in his eyes that Tim's only seen come out when the other boy gets into arguments. Right between the initial outrage of seeing something he thinks is wrong happen. Those few minutes he spends trying to fix the problem with words before he loses patience and starts using his fists.

"I'm gonna be honest for a minute here, Tim," Jason says and Tim nearly gaped at the use if his name. He hadn't thought Jason knew it. He's always called him by a slew of diminutives and nicknames before, but never his name. "I like you. More than is probably healthy for me. I've tried- well, hell, you know everything I've tried."

An increasingly bizarre set of actions that have served no purpose than to humiliate Tim from the first day he came in as a freshman. Yes, Tim knows what Jason's tried. The words stay on the tip of his tongue though because Jason's still giving him that serious look, and there's more than a bit of pleading in there as well.

"My dick headed older brother pointed out there was one thing I haven't done yet though. So," Jason took a breath and looked nervous, "would you, Timothy Drake, go out with me? On a date. One of a series of dates I plan to take you on to convince you that you like me enough to be my boyfriend."

Tim stared and thought, distantly, that Jamie was going to owe Bart and Kon so much money for siding with Tim over Jason's motives.

"Or, not I guess," Jason laughed harshly. His shoulders dropping in something that Tim's never seen from the boy before. Defeat. "Look, forget it. I'll just," Jason looked down at the cart. Hurt poorly hidden before disappearing under his usual grin so quickly Tim had to wonder how much he'd missed seeing by trying to avoid his eyes. "See ya around."

Tim stared at the book in his hand. Listening to Jason walk away. Loud thumps of his boots that usually told everyone how angry he was and to stay away. "Jason."

The sounds stopped and Tim carefully pried two books apart to make room for one more. He was insane. Absolutely insane and he wasn't entirely convinced this wouldn't come back to bite him on the ass later. "Despite the rumors going around, I'm not vegetarian or vegan. So your plans better involve someplace that serves meat."

Tim picks up the last book and eyes the crowded shelf. The silence behind him has a weight to it and Tim almost wants to see the gobsmacked look on Jason's face. He flips the book on its side and slots the thing on top of the books on the shelf. It's not the right thing to do but short of rearranging the whole shelf he isn't getting that book anywhere else.

He doesn't hear Jason move to physically pick Tim up and spin him around. Jason's grin is blinding and fierce as he cups Tim's burning cheeks, "God, you-"

Tim hopes Ms. Gordon doesn't come back to the stacks to see why Tim's yelp was smothered so quickly as Jason pulls him into a rather minty tasting kiss that leaves him breathless.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Costume  
**

**A Word**: Request Jason taking Tim costume shopping and enjoying himself too much.

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The best thing about waiting until the day before Halloween was watching the looks on people's faces as they picked through what was left in the costume section. Or what wasn't left, Jason grinned at the shocked look on Tim's face as he looked at the nearly empty men's section. A feeling of smugness rolling through him as he thought of the costume he'd snagged at the beginning of the month, "I told you, you can't put stuff like this off."

Tim threw a glare at him and stepped back to avoid a shrieking child and his harried mother. He eyed the thick packages of stupid couples costumes as Jason leaned against another empty section of the store. Patiently waiting for Tim to come to the same conclusion Jason had reached a week ago when Tim still didn't have a costume. Normally not something any Wayne had to worry about. Not unless they were trying to infiltrate a party where custom made costumes would stand out in a bad way.

Jason watched a fight break out between two mothers over a costume way too short for the crying ten-year-olds at their feet and smirked.

"I could just-"

"Finish that thought and I'm taking you to Walmart," Jason cut in as Tim turned away from a salt and pepper costume. "You know we have to blend in and the only thing that won't stand out is generic, mass produced costumes."

Tim let out an aggrieved noise and turned to the only spot that had costumes left. Two teenage girls dressed in slinky Thing 1 and 2 costumes stepped aside automatically as Tim glared at the women's costumes. "I wouldn't even fit these things!"

"Sure you will, just look for the plus sizes," Jason gave the girls a sly grin. "He put off buying something and doesn't want to be an egg."

"Who even wears that anyway?" Tim scowls as he pushes aside a slew of slutty this and that. All extra small and looking like they're missing pieces.

"Idiots who wait to the day of to buy costumes," Jason reached past Thing 1 to grab a bag marked plus sized and tossed it to Tim. "Try that on."

"This," Tim looked at the vampire dress with a horror that made the girls giggle. Jason didn't get why he was so upset about it. It was probably the most decent thing left in the store at this point. Slit skirt and plunging neckline aside. "No, Jason. No way."

"This is plus sized," Thing 2 danced up to Tim with a sexy French maid outfit and a devilish grin that did her costume inspiration proud.

"And this!" Thing 1 chimed in with something that looked reminiscent of Ivy. Except more indecent which shouldn't be possible with Ivy.

"No," Tim looked like he'd swallowed something nasty as he took a step back. Hands coming up to ward off the costumes. "Hell no."

Jason spied another costume and grabbed it with a grin that matched the girls' and he'd need a striped hat if this kept up. "How about this?" He asked as he held up a Miley Cyrus VMA costume kit.

"Put that back or you're wearing it and I'm taking your costume," Tim snapped. His glare turning dangerous. "No, we're going to look somewhere else. I refuse to believe every shop is sold out."

Tim stalked out through the chaos in a snit fit so epic even the arguing mothers got out of his way. Jason laughed and dropped the kit about to follow him out when Thing 1 pranced up again. A wicked smile on her face as she held out the best fucking thing Jason had ever seen.

"No fucking way!" Jason crowed with laughter. Wondering who'd had the balls to try and market a sexy Robin uniform. "This is awesome!"

"Get it," Thing 2 said. Grinning just as mad as her counterpart. "He won't find anything anywhere else and he'll have no choice but to wear it!"

Jason tucked the costume under his arm, saluted the girls, and walked up to the register. Already thinking of how the baby bird would look in the short skirt and vest. Tim's waiting had really paid off for Jason.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Condom Fairy  
**

**A Word**: On Tumblr there was a post made in regards to Dick making a fuss over Jay and Tim not using protection, and how he would harass them. I laughed.

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The boxes of condoms and tubes of lube start showing up after Tim and Steph had to go out and pick up a smashed Jason and Dick from a diner a good five miles away from the bar that'd called for the pick up in the first place. Tim only connects the two events because he had born the brunt of Dick's drunken outrage over Tim and Jason's non-usage of protection while Jason snored into his neck and Steph tried not to crash them by laughing too hard.

Tim looked through the different boxes of various sized condoms that's appeared in the bathroom cabinet of his rooms in the manor seemingly overnight.

"Do guys with dicks this small really need condoms?" Jason ties off the end of one of the smaller ones he's blown up with air. Flicking it to join the other various sized condom balloons he's filling the tub with. Skinny things of different colors and shapes.

Tim pulls out one of the glow in the dark condoms and hands it over to Jason. "What exactly did you say to Dick anyway?"

"Not a damn clue," Jason shrugs as he unrolls the condom and stretches it out. "Think I can stuff these into Dick's bed without Alfred seeing?"

"No," Tim doesn't hesitate in answering. The condom blows up a sickly yellow color and almost looks like the beginning of a balloon animal. "But you're going to do it anyway."

The condoms start showing up slowly over the weeks. A strip and a small tube of lube in the glove compartment of the car Tim uses when he wants to be seen in public. A few boxes in his apartment in the city. Jason's grin the next time they tumble into one of his safehouses and he pulls out some, horrible, pink condoms let him know Dick's not just targeting Tim at least. A few singles slipped into the pocket of various clothing Tim or Jason own.

The embarrassment has long worn off and Tim's more bemused as his brother continues to leave them condoms everywhere Jason and Tim could possibly have sex. Jason nearly kills himself choking on some food the day Alfred corners Dick about a strip of condoms left in one of the library couches. Tim has to leave the kitchen before bursting out into laughter as well.

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It stops being funny the day Tim reaches into a drawer at work for a pen and finds a very indiscreet box of condoms and some flavored lube. Tim nearly flushes, but while Tam's listing off his appointments for the day she'll still scent the blood in the air and swoop in for the humiliation kill. Tim forces himself to pull out a pen and casually shut the drawer before she can see the neon cardboard. Quietly seething inside and planning to maim Dick.

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Jason looks way too gleeful when Tim's venting later in the day, "So I can fuck you over your desk now?"

"No," Tim glares as Jason completely misses the point. "No sex at work."

"But-" and that look is far too calculating for Tim's comfort. He's going to have to watch out for Jason trying to sneak in at WE.

"No, Jason!" Tim slumps back against his kitchen counter. Letting his head fall back far enough to thunk on the cabinets. Vowing to hurt Dick for putting him in a situation where he's going to have to worry about being ambushed in the office now.

"Hey," warm hands grip Tim around his waist, hoisting him up onto the counter as Jason steps between his legs. Pulling them up and around his body. "Relax. If Dickie wants to become our personal lube and condom sex fairy? Let him. Gives us all the supplies we'll ever need, right?"

"Right," Tim let his disdain for that idea drip through his voice even as he wraps his arms around Jason's neck. Fingers tangling in his hair, rubbing a lock between his thumb and forefinger as Jason presses closer. Rubbing just enough to start distracting them both. "Hm, think our lube and condom fairy left anything for us in here?"

Jason grins and, without moving away, pulls open one of the junk drawers. There's _two_ boxes of condoms with the lube in it. Tim lets himself be pushed to lie flat on the counter with a laugh.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Kiss Kiss  
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**A Word**: Prompted: Jason finds out explosives really get Tim going while making out. Part 1 because I can see two ways for it.

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"What are you doing?" Tim asks. Sudden and loud right behind Jason's left ear.

Jason doesn't jump only out of extreme fear for how many tiny pieces he'll blow his ass into if he fucks up the proportions on this mix. His hand stays steady as he adds the last chemical. "What," Jason grits out through his teeth, trying not to yell, "does it look like?"

The table is littered with parts and bottles. Lengths of pipe and copper wire coils. It's a small slice out of the Anarchist's Cookbook and Jason knows that Tim has to recognize what most of it's for. Has to recognize what a really _bad_ idea it is to distract Jason right now.

Jason eases off the pour. Letting the liquid drip to a stop. Concentrating very hard on not spilling anything on the threads where the cap will go. Tim breathes out a single harsh breath as Jason carefully seals off the little bomb he's working on, "I know what you're doing. I meant, why do you have so many explosives?"

"Variety is the spice of life," Jason sets the pipe aside and looks at the dozen other pipe bombs he's made. Each one just different enough to be really interesting when set off. "They're not deadly," much. They were still bombs but Jason hasn't added any loose pieces for shrapnel. So as long as he's careful placing them, all he'll get is property damage. Massive property damage.

Tim's distracted running his fingers over the bombs. Cataloging what he can about each from sight alone. He's leaning against Jason putting more weight than needed on him. Jason grins and hauls him down into his lap. Tim goes limp and let's Jason maneuver him as he likes.

"Why you so interested?" Jason nuzzles the soft skin of Tim's neck. "You wanna help me set them off?"

Tim's breath catches in his throat and Jason never would have known if his lips weren't pressed there so tightly. _Score._

"You like playing with fire, baby bird," it's not a question and Jason grins as he sees Tim's eyes, unfocused, go back to the bombs as Jason raises his head. "Want to tear something apart and watch it burn. Feel the blast in your chest and watch the sky light up."

Tim shivers and Jason pulls him into a wet kiss. Taking advantage as Tim's mouth opens on a moan to tangle their tongues together. Tim's holding on tight to his shoulders and Jason can feel him getting hard against his stomach. He's loose and pliant in a way that has Jason reeling because it's always been a fight with Tim. Physically and mentally to get him to admit he wants.

All thoughts Jason had for using the bombs to harass the Penguin are gone as Tim moans into his mouth. Replaced with a series of really crappy buildings near the docks that are already condemned anyway, because if this is what the thought of using them gets him? Jason cannot fucking wait to see what actually setting them off will do to Tim.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Boom Boom  
**

**A Word**: And number 2!

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It'd been something Jason had picked up out of some drug dealing fucker's den. Something that Jason hadn't wanted to hold onto for too long because who the hell knew how stable the homemade bomb could be?

Jason had been expecting nearly anything from the pipe bomb when he set it. Instant explosion, no explosion. Anything.

He's still surprised by the textbook perfect fireball that blows through the ship deck. An angry plume of fire and smoke that devours the ship in a matter of seconds. Shock waves expanding over the open water and giving a hearty kick to his ribs as the entire harbor lights up. Jason laughs because watching a couple million in drugs go up in flames _never_ gets old.

"Oh," the soft sound draws Jason's attention to Tim. The young man is dripping wet beside him, but his face is absolutely rapt as he stares. Even uptight little Timmy Drake is in awe of the explosion. The fire reflecting off his cowl's lenses and making his face look flushed.

"Wasn't expecting that much kick were you, Red?" Jason says with a laugh. Enjoying himself for as long as he can before the mini Bat broke out the disapproving glare and got all righteous on him.

"That," Tim stops and licks his lips. Swallowing hard with an audible click and Jason stops laughing. Stops admiring his work and looks _hard_ at Red Robin.

It isn't the fire turning his face red. That's an actual flush coming down from under the cowl. Which is absolutely not fair at all, because Jason wants to see that. To see the look in Tim's eyes as he reaches up and yanks the man close.

"Really?" Jason growls. Hands wandering down Tim's backside and enjoying the full body shudder he gets when leans forward to nip at his lips. "The big boom get you revved up?"

Because it's not the fire. Jason's seen Tim deal with fire and it's all clinical and detached actions. It's never left him nearly breathless and so damn responsive to Jason's hands. "What-"

Tim surges forward and kisses him silent. Tongue working Jason's lips open and teeth pressing threateningly before he tilts his head and turns it into something messier. Jason hears himself groan when Tim pulls back far enough to rasp, "Just shut up, and enjoy it."

It's probably the best advice Jason's ever taken.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Euphemisms  
**

**A Word**: Jason can have a very juvenile sense of humor at times. Tim fears the day it will coincide with a visit from Dick.

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He forgets, a lot of the time, that Jason is only a few years older than Tim, and that he's mentally a year behind his physical age. Which still puts him firmly in teenage years despite the fact that Jason's never been carded a single time since his death. It's the streak of white that does it mostly, and the harsh lines that his scowl can carve into his face when he has to deal with stupid people.

Jason doesn't just look older though, he also acts older. Right up until he _doesn't_ and Tim's -painfully- reminded of Jason's age.

"Jason!" Tim hisses as he squirms in the man's arms. Trying to twist his way out of the hold without doing either of them any damage. He's getting nowhere though, only managing to mess up bed sheets as Jason cackles in his ear. "Let me go!"

"No," Jason sings, his voice alight with unholy glee as he reaches out to turn the laptop back towards him. "I want to lay you out like a virgin sacrifice and insert my swizzle stick in your boy pussy. I want to park my meat yacht in your brown harbor. Batter dip the corndog and then baste your," Jason pauses and clicks around on the screen before he laughs, "pucker hole with my creamy love liquor!"

"Oh, god," Tim groans and tries to kick out, but Jason's got one thick thigh wrapped around his legs. Making it impossible for Tim to get any leverage. "Jason, stop!"

"What? You don't want me to feed you my baby juice, or powder your sweet cheeks?" Tim can feel Jason's laughter reverberating from where his chest is pressed tight to Tim's back. It's not something that happens nearly often enough. Jason laughing. Tim should be enjoying this moment. Should be _encouraging_ it, but- "I'll take you for a ride on my throbbing python of love, Rimadonna. My purple-helmeted warrior of lov-"

Jason makes a satisfying choking noise as Tim introduces his elbow to the man's stomach. Tim takes the opening to squirm free and snatch the laptop away. Fingers flying as he closes the windows and deletes the browser's history. Hopefully preventing Jason from finding his way back to that horrid glossary.

Jason's curled up on the bed next to him. Still clutching his stomach and quaking with laughter. His eyes bright with tears and face turning an awful red as he gasps between bouts of laughter. Tim scowls at him which only seems to set the man off more, and goes back to the files he'd been reviewing before he'd made the poor choice of leaving his laptop open when taking a shower. "You are _not_ funny. At all."

"I'm a goddamned riot, babe," Jason gets out when he's calm enough to talk again. The occasional chuckle pushing past his lips as he rolls over to press his face against Tim's thigh. One calloused hand wandering under the boxers Tim managed to get on before being pulled into bed. "Don't I get something for trying to expand our sexual vocabulary?"

"No, in fact, I think I feel a headache coming on," Tim saves all two lines that he's managed to add, because Jason's hand is getting intent in a way that's all too distracting. Combined with the goofy grin on Jason's face...

Tim sighs and sets the laptop aside. Leaning back against the headboard and giving Jason his blandest look. "You may have to suck start my libido for me."

Jason doesn't quite manage to stop laughing for a while, and that turns out to be even more interesting than euphemisms.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Pumpkin Spice Latte  
**

**A Word**: Prompt for stargazing and lattes after the boys not being able to sleep in their rooms at the manor.

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The room smells stale in a way that makes Jason's throat lock up and his heart start double timing, because his fingers itch where the skin had torn and the nails bent back at the remembered scent. Jason waits until he's sure Alfred —the only damn reason why he'd ever willingly step foot back in the manor— is gone before escaping into the hall. The manor is big enough he can find himself a bed or couch that won't make him wake up in a cold sweat.

"Jason?" Tim's voice floats down the hall and he turns to find the man walking towards him. A bunch of thick looking blankets folded over his arms and a wry smile on his face. Clever eyes scan Jason's face and Tim's smile turns concerned. " You alright?"

"Fine," Jason says shortly and steps away from the room the more space he puts between him and it the better he feels. "I just, can't," Jason jerks his head back at the closed door.

"Yeah, me too," and that's not just bullshit words. It's the truth. Tim gets it. His reasons for not moving back in are different, but he still gets what Jason's not saying. "I was coming to see if you wanted to go up to the roof."

The roof actually sounds pretty damn terrific to Jason. It can't get any more open than right under the sky. "Why the hell not?"

Jason follows Tim to the small balcony at the end of the hall. The window is already open and he hands over half the blankets before shimmying up. It's any easy climb for them both, the roof of the manor as familiar as any roof in Gotham to them. Jason knows where they're going even before they're past the first series of chimneys.

The flat landing was part of the original design of the manor. An early indication that being high and hidden was a Wayne family trait. It'd been a favorite spot for Jason when he wanted to be alone, unless Dick was around. Then it'd always been best to avoid high places.

Tim's already been up here once. Jason looks at the pillows and simple looking telescope in bemusement. "Really? Star gazing? Should I have lit some candles for you at dinner too?"

Tim doesn't look ashamed in the least as he starts spreading the blankets out. Building a comfortable looking nest for the two of them. "Only if you want me to use them to light your hair up," Tim pulls the bundle from Jason's arms. "You can't see the sky very well in Gotham. Not like you can out here. I miss it sometimes."

Which is true. Gotham has her own stars that block out the night, and none of them are any taller than Wayne Tower. Jason let's Tim push him down as he contemplates the rich darkness of the sky and the vivid pinpricks that make up its constellations. Tim fusses over Jason as much as he did with the blankets. Pushing and pulling until Jason's too comfortable to move before arranging himself around Jason.

"Hate to break it to you but I don't think we'll be using that telescope much," Jason says as he wraps Tim in his arms. Breathing in Tim's shampoo and the night air as he fully relaxes. Content not to move a single muscle until morning.

Tim's still moving though. Wriggling and stretching to the side until he pulls back with a metallic scrape. A green thermos radiating heat is held up triumphantly. "You say that now but wait until you've tried this."

"Hot chocolate?" Jason guesses. Which isn't a bad idea. Alfred always makes a mean brew of the stuff.

"Pumpkin spice latte," Tim pronounces proudly. A grin edging his lips up as the faint scent of it hits Jason's nose.

"I love you," Jason says immediately. Eyes greedily fastened on the the thermos as he reaches for it. The full scent hits him as he opens it and Jason has absolutely everything he could ever need right here. He pauses in the act of taking a sip and looks down at Tim. "I mean that."

"I know," Tim says with a fond smile. "And I love you too, but if that goes cold before I can drink some I'll never forgive you."

Jason nearly snorts burning liquid out of his nose as he laughs.

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	12. Chapter 12

**Musically Inclined  
**

**A Word**: Request for Jay playing piano from Tim's POV.

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The sound of music barely registers in Tim's sleep deprived mind before he's tracking it down. Chasing the faint tune of a piano through the still and quiet manor instead of going to sleep like he should be doing.

It's been one of _those_ nights though. Tim has no illusions on how calm his dreams will be if he does go to sleep and any distraction is welcome.

None of them are very musically inclined so it's a surprise for Tim to stop outside of the music room and realize what he's hearing is live music and not recorded like he'd first thought. He's absolutely speechless when he looks in and sees who is playing.

Jason sits before the grand piano that Tim could have sworn was never used before. His fingers dancing across the ivory keys with an absent minded grace that speaks volumes about his expertise. He's not even paying them much attention. His gaze fixed halfway between the keys and the sheet music on the stand. Distant and peaceful in a way Tim's never seen on the man before. Not when he was Robin and definitely not after.

The music sounds classical. Vaguely familiar enough for Tim to anticipate the flow of it. To listen. Transfixed by the melody as well as the things he's seeing in Jason's unguarded face. Hardly daring to breathe for fear of drawing attention to himself. An act that Tim _knows_ will shatter that fragile peace faster than anything else.

Tim's very presence seems to bring out the worst in Jason, and it's only in moments like these that he can really feel close to the man. Moments when he's relegated back to stalking from the shadows with his heart twisting at the forced distance.

Jason plays on. For hours or minutes -Tim loses track- and Tim hovers in the shadows of the door the entire time. Watching and listening for as long as possible. Committing every detail to memory.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Storytime**

**A Word**: Request for Tim asking Jay to read to him.

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Jason's minding his own damn business when he gets a brick of a book lobbed at his head. Jason catches it on reflex and glares at Tim as he comes into the room. "What the fuck did I do to you?"

The _look_ he gets for that is an effective reminder that the list of things Jason's done to Tim could easily be as long as —Jason flips the book to see the title— War and Peace. With full annotations, and, Jason flips open to a random page, Tim's obsessively tiny scribblings in the margins.

"Read to me," Tim's voice is as tight as the muscles in his back when he sits down next to Jason. Primly straight and not a single bend or slouch in sight. His hands fist tight in a throw pillow. Denting the fabric with almost enough force to rip holes in it. "I don't care what. Just read something. Anything."

Jason eyes Tim and bites back a few remarks. Tim looks ready to snap and start biting heads off. Righting the book he looks at the page. He thinks about reading it for all of three seconds before tossing it aside. The book makes a tremendous noise as it bangs to the floor because it's a hardback edition.

He digs into the cushions of the couch they're on hoping Alfred hasn't done his usual thorough cleaning of the room yet. He's rewarded when he finds the worn cover of a book. It's thin and slim but Jason pulls it out and opens it to the first page. Reaching out to pull Tim's stiff body against his own, because if he's going to be telling bedtime stories he's going to do it right.

"Coraline discovered the door a little while after they moved into the house," Tim sighs and goes boneless as Jason reads. Not stopping even when he feels the flutter of Tim's breath against his neck. Tension bleeding out at a fast rate.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Performing Arts  
**

**A Word**: Request for writer Jay working in a bar and ballet dancer Tim.

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The fucking ballet is the last place Jason would think he'd willingly go to. It's not his scene, not his crowd. There's no smoke and smell of spilt beer amongst the ritzy people milling with their champagne flutes and diamond _everything_. There's no boisterous laughter in the carefully practiced titters hidden behind their perfectly manicured hands. No honesty to be found except for the tiny corner Jason's staked out for himself in the lobby.

Jason frowns at the sneers he's getting in the button down shirt and good slacks his publicist insisted he get for the signings Jason refuses to attend. Maybe the battered leather jacket is too much for their delicate sensibilities. Maybe it's the sneer he's been giving these pretentious fucks from the start. He doesn't know and he doesn't have a single fuck to give about it.

They're all here to be seen. Talking about the 'art' of it all like they have any idea what that word even means. They're not the ones with a view into the old dance studio the dancers practice in from sun up till sun down every day. The glass front of the place a perfect window to see the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into making this night absolutely flawless.

Without that insight they can't truly appreciate what they're about to see.

Jason has spent weeks watching the dancers between slow shifts at the bar. Lunches where the most complicated order is a beer and basket of fries. Between bouts of rambling thoughts scribbled in his battered notebook that sometimes pan out into a new chapter and sometimes don't.

He's watched the surprisingly muscled men and women perform movements repeatedly. Over and over again. Falling and stumbling their way to perfection. It's humbling and inspiring to watch their dedication to their craft.

And if Jason's eyes stray to one particular dark haired man —the one who always arrives first and leaves last— there's no one to call him on it most days. Though he'd nearly had to break Roy's nose when the man presented him with the expensive ass ticket to the night performance and told him to nut up.

The lobby empties slowly and Jason lets most of the people in ahead of him before following. _Maybe_, he thinks, as he enters the theater, _maybe_.

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	15. Chapter 15

**Siren  
**

**A Word**: Request for Siren Tim who was raised to be Ra's right hand man and uses his voice to get everything he needs meeting Batman and Robin and getting the best of them. This is put here only because while Siren!Tim will mess around with anyone, he's actually attracted to Jason.

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* * *

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"Damian," the voice is like liquid velvet. Wrapping around Damian in ways he does not recall it doing before, and Damian wants nothing more in that split second than to do whatever that voice bids him to do.

The familiar voice stops him cold, arm extended to shoot out a line and body tensed to jump. Damian does not want to turn to look. He wants to keep running and never stop, but Richard has already stopped and is turning. Damian cannot allow his brother to face this threat alone.

"Siren," Damian greets the older man wrapped in spotless gray with a stiff nod that befits both of their official stations. Blue eyes crinkle in silent laughter and Damian feels himself flush at the mocking nod he's given back. "What brings you out of Grandfather's court?"

The mention of his grandfather is enough to stop the questions Richard had been preparing to ask. The cowl gives little away but Damian is close enough to feel the shift of his brother's weight as he moves into a fighting stance.

"I wanted to visit you," Siren glides forward. All grace and _intent_. Richard stiffens and pulls himself up to loom reflexively over the smaller assassin. Damian dearly regrets not sharing all he knows with his family now, because there's no time to tell him how stupid that move is. How very little Siren cares for or about intimidation tactics. "Well, hello there. Batman isn't it? Why don't you have a seat and let me talk with your little brother?"

Richard shudders. The cape rippling as his knees fold under him. Surprise etches it's way across his face, and he fights it. Fights the compulsion that has nothing to do with Siren's voice —extensive tests have proven that— and everything to do with the _need_ the man engineers in others to please him.

How he does it is still a mystery. One that Grandfather allows Siren to keep in exchange for never using it against him and him alone.

Damian swallows as Siren turns to him. Unwinding the scarf from his face to give a cool and perfect smile. He's older now, as is Damian, and those years have been kind to him.

"Damian," Siren's voice twists inside of him. Like it never has before when the man had been responsible for Damian's training. Igniting a feverish heat that only desperately wants to please. "We have so much to get caught up on."

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	16. Chapter 16

**Siren  
**

**A Word**: Request for more Siren!Tim.

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* * *

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Siren packs a few suits in case he needs to drop in on the corporate side of Ra's empire in America. He has his orders but no one —not even Ra's— pretends Siren will follow them to the letter. He likes keeping his options open.

The suits are only practical. It's been a while since the West side of the company has dealt with Timothy Drake. They could be getting complacent under Talia's hand. Siren might need to rattle some cages. Remind those polished and soft business men of their place.

The gray uniform goes in last. Soft and pristine in its in-between color. Because Siren is not a White Ghost and he's not a ninja. He belongs in neither the light nor the shadows, but in the borders of the two.

It will be nice to see Damian again. To see what the past few years with his father have done for the boy. He's fourteen? No, fifteen now. That awkward age where everything changes.

A smile curves his lips as he shuts his bag and a woman melts out of the shadows to retrieve it. He hasn't heard of the boy taking any lover yet and that is something he'll have to fix while gathering the information Ra's wants. He recalls from his early childhood how horrendously Puritan people in America get about such things. It won't do for Damian to be held back by those views.

And maybe, while he's thinking about lovers…

Reports from Talia are positive. Jason Todd has pulled out of most of the Pit madness. He shows few of the expected side effects. His will reasserting itself wonderfully now that he's on his own.

Siren wonders if his eyes still blaze green and if his kisses will still be filled with teeth and blood. It's something he's looking forward to finding out on his little trip..

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	17. Chapter 17

**Performing Arts  
**

**A Word**: Continuation of Chapter 14.

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"He's here!" Bart says. Excited and energetic the way he only gets before a performance. Tim ignores his manic bouncing and sprinting with the ease that only comes from long practice.

Tim bends slowly. Stretching each muscle until his fingers can touch the floor. His back easing into it and loosening. He counts his breaths and lets utter calm wash through his mind.

"He doesn't look too happy," Kon remarks. Tim can see his best friend out of the corner of his eye. They're all crowded around the small well hidden window that looks down into the theater lobby. The temptation to size up the audience too much for them to resist like he knew would happen the minute they were shown the layout of the theater. The empty second floor meant for storage is too perfect for warm up routines, and the room backstage is needed for the costuming more than anything else.

"Well, it's not like he's used to being around rich people," Cassie says, and Tim wonders -vaguely as he rotates his right ankle- who they're talking about. "I mean, The Tavern is all working class patrons, right?"

_Ah_. The bar across from the studio that the women have been raving about for the past few weeks. Tim arches backward, feeling his spine melt into the move. The him they're talking about must be that bartender that Tim's heard entirely too much about lately. From Bart and even -much to his surprises- Kon as well.

Tim really wishes his friends would get their priorities straight. It's opening night and they've got less than twenty minutes before they have to be in place before the curtain rises. They'll suffer for it later and Tim smiles, just a little, at the thought of one of them getting a cramp at the worst possible time.

"No, they're not his crowd alright," Anita says. Amusement coloring her voice as she uses a broken coat rack as a makeshift bar and pulls her leg straight up. She at least, has the good sense to use her time well. "Not going by his last book at least. What was the title of it? Tim?"

"What?" Tim blinks caught off guard and looks up. Everyone is staring expectantly at him. "What book? I thought you were all talking about that bartender."

"Well, yeah!" Bart spins across the room. Fluid and graceful as he grins. "But he's also a writer. Bartending is just what he does for fun."

"That last book you lent me," Anita's smile is serene and lofty as Tim's mind stutters to a stop. Calmness being replaced by a sense of unreality because- "The one about social equality and class privilege. That one."

"Jason Todd," Tim manages to choke out, and doesn't miss the triumphant _glee_ in Cassie's face as she exchanges a high five with Anita. "You mean to tell me that _Jason Todd_ works at the bar across the street from the studio, you all _knew_ this, and you didn't tell me before now?"

Kon shrugs. Unrepentant as he says, "We tried to get you to come along with us man, but you never wanted to. All your fault."

Tim loves his friends dearly, but he's going to kill them for this. Slowly and painfully. Tim pushes between Kon and Cassie and looks out the window. Scanning the well dressed crowd below. "Where is he?"

"Right corner," Bart calls out from behind him and Tim shifts his attention to-

"In the leather jacket," Cassie offers. Completely unnecessarily because Tim's jaw is already unhinged. "So, should we take this to mean you'll love his body as much as you already love his mind?"

Someone's cackling and it just might be Kon, but Tim's too preoccupied to care. Because the answer to that question is, _yes_. A resounding yes that he's sure is audible to everyone in a five mile radius, because Jason Todd is gorgeous. He's got a brain that makes Tim drool, the courage to point out all the things that are wrong in the world, and looks really good in leather. How can Tim be expected to think right after that revelation?

"Come on," hands grab Tim's arm and Anita grins when he turns to glare at her. "You can moon over that hot ass later. We got to get in place right now though."

Bart and Cassie are snickering and Kon's making a face as he goes out the door to the stairs. Tim glares at them all. "I hate you all so much."

"Yeah, sure," Cassie gets out through her snickering. "You just say that again after we take you out for celebratory drinks at The Tavern tonight."

He has the worst friends ever. Tim tries to clear his mind, to get back the calm that he needs to be at his best for this performance. It comes grudgingly as Tim refuses to look back out the window and instead heads for the stairs.

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End file.
